


The Breaking Point

by English_Tea_Roses



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Autopsy, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Forensics, Hero Complex, Intrigue, Lies, Light Angst, Murder, Mystery, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 15:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3655995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/English_Tea_Roses/pseuds/English_Tea_Roses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Molly Hooper becomes flatmate to an incredibly eccentric detective, she finds that she's in for more than she bargained for. A mysterious figure from her past, a painful secret, and a frightening situation are all part of her months living in 221B. Will all end well? Or will she reach her breaking point under the stress?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Breaking Point

“So how’s the search going, Sherlock?” Molly asked the detective as they stood over the cadaver on the table. The corpse in front of them was very routine, a simple shot through the back that exited almost exactly in front of the heart. The victim, a Mr. James Chapman, was dead before he hit the pavement outside the club where he breathed his last. The killer was the victim’s boyfriend who had thought the dead man was flirting with another man outside a club. Street full of witnesses, killer didn’t even bother denying it, very easy to inspect and clean up. Molly was able to hold a conversation with the dark-haired detective while she worked; she’d done it loads of times before. Time of death: 11 p.m. the day before, if twelve witnesses were to be believed. If the police didn’t insist on an autopsy, Molly wouldn’t have bothered with this one. The detective poked the pectoral muscle on the corpse and sighed.

“Not well. Everyone is just so _dull_ , I couldn’t stand to be in the same room with them for more than five minutes, much less live with them,” Sherlock said, his voice taking on that peculiar whining tone that made him seem like a petulant child rather than a brilliant man. Molly had always seen that vulnerable side as rather attractive, since Sherlock usually presented a face of pure ice.

“Have you asked John for help?” Molly asked. Sherlock’s best friend and former flatmate was usually the more reasonable and tactful of the Dynamic Duo, as she privately called them. She couldn’t help it; the similarities between them and the Batman characters made her laugh.

“He sits in on the interviews to stop me from being, as he puts it, ‘a right arsehole’. I can’t afford the rent on my own since he’s so selfishly abandoned me, so I really need to find someone soon,” Sherlock said. Molly began stitching up the T-incision on the cadaver, tutting and shaking her head a little.

“Selfishly. Coming from a man who faked his death for two years.”

“That’s different; it was for a case!  Not _getting married._ Besides, were you not the one who helped me? If anything, _you’re_ to blame for not cluing him in while you were together here all this time.” Molly stopped stitching and peered up at him, a frown etching her pretty features.

“Don’t be such a dick, you explicitly told me not to say anything! Here, there’s another needle on the table; either help me finish this or go find something else to do. Why are you interested in this one, anyway? It’s not like you to care about a random domestic case,” Molly said, resuming her work.

Sherlock took up the other surgical needle and thread and started fixing up the other side making neat, small rows. Molly shouldn’t have been surprised. With the amount of injuries he acquired in his line of work, he’d either have long-since learned to sew or else bled to death in a warehouse somewhere.

“I wanted to talk to you, actually. You’re looking for a flat as well,” Sherlock said.  He finished his sewing and knotted the thread, cutting it off and putting the needle back on the table. Molly did likewise and looked at him, surprised.

“How the hell- oh, don’t bother, you’re right anyway. My old flatmate, a total wanker, has decided to start showing up at my flat and begging me to let him live there again. Don’t like him, so I’m just leaving to get him to go away. What of it?”

“You’re interesting enough and don’t care much about mess. Plus your job is neat and pays enough for half of 221B. What do you say?” Sherlock attempted a winning smile. Molly had known him for far too long to fall for it, though it was nice. On one hand, Sherlock was a total nightmare to deal with on his bad days. On the other hand, he mostly kept to himself and she _really_ needed somewhere to live. It wouldn’t be too bad, would it, to stay for a while until she found somewhere else?

“Eh, why not? Beats living with a complete stranger, that’s for sure. But you really didn’t need to come to Bart’s to ask me. You could’ve just texted me, you know.” Sherlock reached into his coat and pulled out a bag of what looked like human hair. He opened it and the stench of alcohol permeated the air, even covering the smell of corpse.

“Yeesh, have you taken to drinking?” Molly asked, joking. The hair smelled like it had been dipped in a vat of vodka.

“No, it’s the hair, can’t you see that?” Sherlock asked with a genuine hint of concern. Smart as he was, the man occasionally could not read people and it freaked him out. Molly tried not to feel insulted that he thought her that stupid.

“Yes, I know, Sherlock. Why do you have it?” Sherlock pulled a bit of the hair out of the bag, away from the cadaver on the table to avoid cross-contamination. Molly stripped off her rubber gloves and held the long, silky caramel strands.

“The hair is from Jane Starling, a recently discovered corpse. I’m finding out what she was doing before she was shot,” Sherlock said, not even registering that it wasn’t exactly okay to use lab resources for his own tests. Molly never reported him, partly because he was a friend and partly because he was good enough at his job that it was more of an investment than a loss on the lab’s part.

“Drinking, clearly. You can smell the vodka on the hair.”

“Anything not completely obvious?” Sherlock asked, frustrated. Molly carefully ran her fingers through the strands, feeling something… wet? She rubbed the mysterious substance between her forefinger and thumb.

“Petroleum jelly? Why would _that_ be in her hair?”

“Excellent. As to why it would be there, I have several theories, but I have to wait until tomorrow to see how the chemical tests have reacted with her hair,” he sighed dramatically.

“Rather impatient, aren’t you?”

“Waiting is incredibly boring.”

“I agree, but that’s just the way it works here. The jelly thing is bothering me, though. Where was she found?”

“In Postman’s Park right by here, why?” Sherlock asked, brows knitting together in thought. Molly shrugged.

“Thought if it was outside a club or something, it might have been for sex. That’s usually where petroleum jelly comes from in cases like this,” Molly replied. She’d found petroleum jelly or other lubricant on many a corpse before. Sherlock gave her a giant, somewhat frightening grin.

“Oh, you are wonderful!” he exclaimed, “Look, why don’t you come over to the flat sometime tomorrow evening? I think you’ll do perfectly.” Without another word, he grabbed his scarf and swept out of the room. Molly was left alone.

She wheeled the cadaver back into the corpse-fridge, as she called it, and changed out of her scrubs.  Grabbing her purse after she had her coat on, she left St. Bart’s Hospital into the cold London night, hailing a cab. As it took her back to her box-filled, whirlwind apartment, she contemplated her situation and how it could very much be improved with this move.

Her phone went off, a chime that was familiar yet entirely unwelcome.

**Don’t fucking ignore me, Mah. You were chosen for my needs, remember? Or do you need reminding again? –Jem**

Molly deleted the message and closed her eyes, settling back against the seat. Yes, this move would definitely be an improvement.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this beginning chapter, I guess. Um, the work SHOULD run ten or so chapters if I don't decide to beef it up a bit. Yes, I am fully aware that I am overhauling an old Sherlock/OC story of mine that was published here last year. Good Lord, reading over my old writing made me cringe, so it will bear very little resemblance to the original.
> 
> My tumblr url is @the-devils-dandy


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